


What Makes You Happy?

by Cheliya



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Bluestocking, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Mid Season 3, Mild Smut, Oxford student, Tommy is grieving, season 4, time skip, y/n
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheliya/pseuds/Cheliya
Summary: Tommy meets a woman who dares to break the ice around his heart.Warning - mild language, age difference
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still working on light and cold, thought I would post a fic from my Tumblr until then.

When are you getting married, Y/N?’

‘I’m still studying, actually.’ Y/N shrugged, well used to the questions which were thrown her way whenever she was back in Birmingham. She should’ve gotten used to it by now. But presently, sitting between her cousin Linda and her widowed sister-in-law, Ada Thorne, Y/N couldn’t wait for the evening to get over. She had arrived in Small Heath a few days ago to meet her pregnant cousin and was leaving tomorrow. The visit had been uneventful at best, considering the recent loss of Linda’s sister-in-law, mere weeks after her marriage to Arthur’s brother and the general gloom surrounding the family. But most of them had been cordial to her. Well, all of them except the man sitting at the head of the table, his icy blue eyes looking at her with clear disregard. If he ever looked at her, that is. 

‘I thought you were nineteen.’ Ada added, mystified. 

‘Yes, I am. But I study at the University of Oxford.’

A few eyebrows rose and Linda intervened, ‘She makes delicious crumpets.’

‘Only if Mum is standing next to me.’ She replied with a shrug, busying herself with the steak in front of her. 

Meanwhile, Tommy Shelby pretended to be interested in the jokes his brothers were cracking, his attention caught by the newcomer at the table. She was Linda’s distant cousin who went to University and preferred stout to whisky. She also liked to ride horses and play whist with the chauffeurs. But except her peculiar tastes, he didn’t know anything more. It irked him beyond reason that he wanted to know more, despite their age difference and his recent widowhood. 

But it didn’t matter anymore, because she was leaving tomorrow after her three-day visit. He could finally stop seeing her sprinting around the house in her colourful dresses and bare feet. She was a nuisance mostly but he liked that Charlie liked her, so he had tolerated her presence. Now that she was going, he wished she would stop casting uncertain glances in his direction. Because he didn’t think he could bear to see that face without making a mistake he would regret for eternity. 

After dinner was over and all the couples had retired, Tommy got up to visit the stables. Only to be stopped by Arthur wobbling towards him, unsteady on his feet. 

‘Tommy, my man, I need you to go out for a while. A long while.’ He added, his words somewhat slurred. 

‘Why?’ He asked impatiently. 

‘You see, my drinking has made Linda quite unhappy. I want to end this party early.’

‘Go fuck anywhere Arthur. I’m not bothered.’ Tommy replied carelessly, annoyed at his brother for no particular reason. 

With a sideways glance at the woman sitting in the corner, Arthur cleared his throat and realisation dawned on Tommy’s face.

‘I don’t think-’

‘It’s alright with me.’ Y/N interjected, making Arthur and Tommy aware of how loud they were. 

‘The night is young. And you two are somewhat young.’ Arthur gestured at him with a look that said ‘See, she understands.’ 

‘Let’s go, then.’ She got up, her bubbly voice driving nails in Tommy’s head. 

‘Come.’ Tommy bit out reluctantly. 

As they walked towards the canal, Tommy pulled out two cigarettes from his coat and offered one to her as he asked, ‘Are you engaged?’

She took her time answering him. First she placed the cigarette between her lips and waited for him to light it. After he had offered her the lighter, she lit the stick and took a deep puff, then answered solemnly, ‘No. But I was, until last year.’

‘What happened?’ He asked, slightly ticked by her dallying. Even more ticked by his interest. 

‘We both wanted different things out of life.’ She said evasively, not wanting to talk about her recent heartbreak. 

‘What things?’

‘He wanted to live in America. I didn’t.’ She said shortly. 

‘Because?’ He asked again. 

‘Because living for money isn’t the right way to live.’ She said impatiently, irritated by his questioning.

‘What is the right way then? Jumping fences?’ He said with a derisive snort. 

‘I just do what comes to my head.’ She replied in a voice that said, ‘I don’t give a fuck about what you think’. 

‘You are whimsical, then.’ He declared, slightly disappointed. She was just another rich woman wanting a taste of the working class. Not that she had given any outright signal. She maintained her distance whenever he was around and barely talked to him. But more than once, her gaze at flitted in his direction and she had blushed like a fucking tomato when he caught her. 

‘Perhaps. But my whims are nowhere near your ambition.’ She said with a smile in his direction. 

‘You don’t know anything about me.’ He said flatly but no one could ignore the sharpness in his words. 

She looked away from him as her face flushed a little but she didn’t lose her footing. With a small shrug, she asked, though hesitatingly, ‘So?’

‘So don’t judge.’

Her face softened and she gently touched his arm, ‘I’m not judging you. I just wanted to know what makes you happy?’ She asked, immediately regretting the words that left her mouth. She knew how private and reticent he was. It was only today that she had seen him so closely and she had managed to earn his hatred in less than five sentences. 

But he surprised her by speaking, in the same bored, emotionless voice, 

‘I was eighteen when my mother drowned in the canal. A few months later, my father left, leaving my family with nothing but the roof above our head. Very early in life, I learnt that this world only sees you if you have something to offer.’

‘But don’t you ever feel like living a simple life?’ She asked nervously, shocked by his answer. 

He took a puff of the cigarette and blew smoke in her direction, ‘Do I look like a man who wants a simple life?’

She didn’t let the smoke deter her from her prodding and continued, ‘I don’t know. But I saw you from my window this morning. You were talking to the horses and for the first time in three days, I saw you smile.’

‘I can talk to horses while keeping my company. I don’t need a fucking socialite to tell me how to live.’

If Tommy thought he had managed to quiet her down, he was wrong. Because instead of bursting into tears, she merely rolled her eyes. 

‘Alright, you win. But you still didn’t answer my question. What makes you happy?’ She asked. Now that she knew Thomas Shelby didn’t like her, it made it easier to ask pressing questions. 

‘Owning everything makes me happy.’

She scoffed and his gaze sharpened. ‘Do you have something to add?’

‘Your eyes get misty when you hold your son. Do the racecourses you own make you cry? Or the cars you sell and the house you live in?’ She turned to look at him and asked softy, ‘Now that you have everything, what is the one thing that is still missing?’

Tommy looked at her for a moment, taking in the sparkle in her eyes and glow on her face. He should have answered her stupid question and be done with it. Because the answer was Grace. It should have been Grace, but he couldn’t say it. He missed Grace to the point of killing himself, even felt responsible for her death but she wasn’t the first thing that came to his mind. And that pierced his already hurting heart. 

Y/N looked at the inner turmoil Tommy Shelby was going through and extended her hand in his direction. 

‘Come.’

He looked down at it for a moment and was about to refuse when something made him change his mind. He couldn’t let her have the upper hand by adding significance to the small gesture. It was his way of asserting his control and he firmly clasped her palm in his. 

A few minutes later, they were standing in front of the canal. It looked almost scenic with the moonlight glimmering down and crickets chirping and the first thing Tommy asked was, ‘Planning to kill me?’

In response, she intertwined her fingers in his, tightening her hold on him. 

‘We are about to jump in this river.’ She almost whispered and he turned to look at her, finding her face almost split in half by her wide smile. 

‘No. Don’t.’ He ordered, trying to break their joined hands. 

Her foot was already inching towards the water. ‘If you don’t jump, I will.’

‘Y/N!’

‘Stop yelling and just jump!’ She replied in the same loudness before taking the leap, taking Tommy with her despite his firm resolve. 

He came up immediately, angered at what the girl had made him do. He was a Peaky Blinder and Peaky Blinders didn’t jump in rivers like small boys. He was going to fucking kill her when he found her. But where was she? 

Sputtering out the water from his mouth, he looked around for her.

‘Y/N?’ He asked, wiping the unpleasant-smelling water from his face and eyes. He kept treading further, looking for the woman he should actually be killing with his bare hands.

His legs hit something and he groped in the dark for her, only to fall back when something jumped out suddenly, splashing water everywhere. ‘Fuck!’ He shouted. 

She was still grinning, oblivious to his anger. ‘Were you scared?’ She asked jovially. 

When he only clenched his teeth in response, she justified her ‘whimsical’ action, ‘I can hold my breath in water for five minutes.’

He moved closer to her, his face almost sinister under the moonlight. When her soft arms were in his callous hands, he yelled. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

She looked at him with wide eyes and only licked her lips in response, diverting his attention to the lush pair. He treaded closer, the movement made difficult by his shoes; shoes he hadn’t been able to take off because of her frivolous decision. Feeling more angered, he stopped only when there was less than an inch of distance between them. His gaze fell back on her lips and he might have bent a little to touch them when she broke the moment by moving backwards. 

Swallowing, she said casually, ‘It’s a bit cold. But don’t worry, we’ll be fine.’

He pulled back abruptly, making her gasp at the sudden cold she felt. 

‘Come out, now.’

***

‘It was fun.’ She said as she wrung her hair and dress dry, heedless to the amount of skin she was showing and discarding the almost ‘kiss’ from her memory. She felt ashamed for wanting to kiss a man who was old enough to be her…older brother. Moreover, he was her family member and had recently lost his wife. But she didn’t regret it and it made her hate herself even more. 

He looks unfazed by it, she thought as she watched him check if his pocket watch was still working. 

‘You’re just as fucked up as the Russians.’ He replied, flinging the ruined pocket watch across the canal. 

He wanted to offend her but she merely tossed back her head and laughed, ‘Maybe. But I always wanted to swim in the moonlight.’

‘I didn’t.’

In response, she merely gave another laugh and rubbed her neck with her already drenched handkerchief. She was beginning to shiver but she didn’t mind, the blood rushing in her veins provided enough warmth. 

But Tommy minded it. He shrugged out of his sodden coat and handed it to her, ‘Take this. I doubt it will be of any help though.’ He said impassively. Their fingers touched when she reached for it and Y/N pulled back as if she had been electrocuted. 

‘Thank you.’ She said and sneezed. Then, sheepishly she added, ‘ And I’m sorry if I caused trouble.’

But Tommy wasn’t looking at her, busy gazing at the expanse of river in front of him with a strange expression. 

‘I used to race across the river with my friend. Freddie Thorne.’ He said, the wistful note in his voice hard not to ignore. 

His sister’s husband who had died of the flu. Taking kindness, she reined her inquisition and only asked, ‘When?’

He looked at her at that moment and replied, his eyes bleak. ‘Before France. Before everything.’

‘You can always come back. The river is just the same.’ She said comfortingly. 

‘But I’m not.’

‘I am sorry for what you’ve been through but you have a whole life ahead of you. You have a good family and a son, you mustn’t let the darkness cloud the light.’

He scoffed, ‘What do you study at the university?’

‘The art of making people understand the importance of life.’ She said proudly, brandishing her worldly knowledge with a flourish. 

‘That’s a fucking stupid degree to have.’ 

But she didn’t retort back, her attention caught by the sight before her. ‘Oh, my God. I made Thomas Shelby smile.’

He made no attempt to erase it from his face, himself surprised at the movement of his muscles. 

‘I want to frame this moment.’ She continued, a smile breaking on her face. 

‘When do you leave, Y/N?’ Tommy asked, surprising both of them. Mostly him. 

‘Tomorrow morning. My train leaves at seven.’ She said, perplexed. 

‘Do you want me to drop you?’ He continued his list of strange questions and took a step forward, towards the exit. 

‘Why, Mr Shelby?’ She asked from behind, her voice a soft whisper. 

‘Because I want to. Be ready at five.’ He stated and began to walk further. 

‘Are you planning to kill me on the way?’ She asked, trying to mask her confusion behind humour. She knew something had shifted between them but she didn’t know if he was feeling what she was feeling. 

He stopped and turned around, taking long strides in her direction. When they were face to face, he willed her to look at him and asked, 'Do you know how old I am?’ 

‘Thirty-three.’ She replied, having learnt all about the family from the women. 

‘I’m fourteen years older than you.’ He said matter-of-factly, betraying no emotion.

‘Does it matter to you?’ She asked in a pathetically small voice, feeling self-conscious of her naivety for the first time. 

He shook his head. ‘Not significantly. What about you?’ 

‘No. But I am not like the women you know.’ She said, still lost in her world of self-pity. 

‘No, you’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met.’ He said with a hollow laugh. 

‘Is that a compliment?’ She asked, back to her cheeky self. 

‘No.’ He said, his voice gentle, as if he understood what she was feeling. 

She gave him her wide smile and replied, ‘Then it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Wait.’ 

He walked until there was no space between them, their damp bodies flat against each other. They were so close that she could lean in and kiss his neck. Or his lips if she craned her neck a little. She kept looking at the space behind his collar bone, wanting to lick the drops of water from there. She moved closer, breathing in his scent, which was not marred significantly by the river water. 

He reached to touch her hair and she raised her head to look at him, her eyes waiting and expecting. She closed her eyes as his fingers ran through the tangles, loving the pressure and his touch.

All of a sudden, he removed his hand from her wet tangles and she had to stifle her groan. She opened her eyes to find him holding a leaf in his hand, his eyes sparkling wickedly. 

‘You had this in your hair.’ He said and flung it away, leaving her gobsmacked. 

‘See you tomorrow, Y/N.’ He said before finally walking back home. 


	2. Shooting Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fem reader is 19 in early 1924 and in mid 1925, she turns 21.

##  **Early 1924**

‘So, this is your office?’ Y/N asked, walking ahead of Tommy, her eyes hungrily taking in every corner, every inch of the place.

‘Yep.’ He replied, taking out a cigarette from his pocket as he watched her skip around his office like a kid. Maybe because she is a kid, he thought darkly, already questioning his decision to bring her here. But it would be better to be done with her childish self sooner, considering he had Russian business and the fucking priest to deal with.

‘It’s good.’ She said from behind his table, nodding in appreciation. She stopped when her gaze fell on the photo frame on his desk. Picking it up, she asked in polite diffidence, ‘Is this Grace?’ 

But he remained closed off as he said shortly. ‘Yeah.’

‘She’s beautiful.’ She said sincerely and continued, ‘Linda said she was from Ireland. How did you two meet?’ She asked, still hesitating but eager to know more. 

He gave a short laugh and she wondered if their first meeting had been beautiful and perfect like Grace. Despite her strong yet confused feelings towards him, she felt for the love he had lost. 

‘She was a barmaid. And a spy.’ He answered, instead of telling her his grand love story.

Her brows furrowed in confusion but he didn’t humour her, only sat down on his chair with her standing beside. 

‘You loved her against reason, against all discouragement that could be.’ She said with a kind smile, happily ignoring the rest of the quote. He looked up at her for a moment and was almost sorry for what he was going to do with her. 

But he only took a puff of his cigarette and said, looking at a far-off place, ‘Yeah, I did.’

‘I think Charlie takes after Grace. He has her eyes.’ She remarked, closely looking at the frame as Tommy’s hand gripped the arm of the chair.

Her name. No one took her name anymore. When she _was_ mentioned, it was either as his wife or Charlie’s mother, terms which unkindly pointed out his inability to keep her safe. Even he didn’t remember the last time he had spoken her name. It was almost as if she had disappeared from their memories. He wanted to talk to her. Talk about her. But he couldn’t. 

His mouth twisted bitterly and he was grateful she didn’t notice; he didn’t want her to dissect his every emotion.

He abruptly got up from his chair to stand in front of her, leaving next to no space between them. Her eyes widened for a moment before turning soft as she gingerly put her hands on his shoulders. 

He leaned in to touched her face with the back of his hand and she flinched backwards at the familiar spark she felt, only to bump against the table. Her pulse quickened as he moved closer, close enough that she could look into his eyes and everything which was hidden behind. And she didn’t like what she saw, for his eyes were glazed and sad, as if lost elsewhere. 

His other hand was already inching under her skirt when she pulled away from him, leaving him baffled and annoyed.

She took a deep inhale and said, ‘I know why you brought me here. And I understand what you’re going through.’

He continued to look at her with muted fury, angered at her for using his ‘grief’ to put him down. 

She licked her lips in trepidation and whispered, ‘I am sorry. But I can’t…’

‘You have a train to catch. Come.’ He interrupted her apology curtly and was out before she could make sense of everything that had transpired. 

They were quiet for the entire journey, so quiet that Y/N could almost hear the sound of his teeth gnashing. When they finally reached Snowhill station, Y/N got out to pick her suitcase but Tommy stayed inside, still clenching his jaw. He was about to push the button when she came to stand beside him, motioning him to stop. 

‘Don’t I get a goodbye?’ She asked in mock-petulance. 

He drummed his fingers on the wheel, his eyes on the telephone booth in front of him. 

‘Not even a smile?’ She asked as a smile threatened on her own face. 

He checked his pocket watch.

She sighed. ‘I like you, Tommy and I would love to be with you. But for something other than sex.’

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say, ‘Your train leaves in fifteen minutes.’ 

She smiled her wide smile at his child-like behaviour but didn’t dare reveal it to him. ‘You don’t have to stay strong always.’ She said instead, before placing a kiss on his cheek and leaving for her destination. 

As Tommy watched her leave, he felt a forlorn thought nudge at the back of his head but he chose to keep it for later. If he was looking forward to remembering it in the future, he didn’t get a chance, because a few days later, he had his head smashed like a vase. 

##  **July 1925**

It was a pleasant afternoon in Oxford. with sunlight sifting through the white clouds and mild breeze teasing the leaves. The wheels of Y/N’s bicycle rolled down the hill, making her hair fly and her skirt bunch around her thighs. But she didn’t slow down, revelling in the gust of cool wind. _This is what freedom feels like._

Her time at the university was over but she had stayed, partly because of a potential fellowship but mostly to avoid going back home. Not that she had a home. Her parents were too caught up in themselves and her brothers to worry about the eccentric daughter who sold jewels to go to university. 

But with the dwindling cash and lack of employment, she knew her days at Oxford were numbered. 

She was still musing about ways to find work when she came to abrupt halt and the tires of her cycle screeched in protest, making her jolt forward.

He was leaning against a grey Bentley, dressed in black from head to toe and wearing gold-rimmed spectacles, smoking perhaps his fiftieth cigarette of the day. And it wasn’t even one yet. 

For a moment, no one spoke, both of them appraising each other and waiting for the other to begin. 

When his more-than-cursory glance on her dress began to fluster her, she willed herself to keep from looking down and asked, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was passing. Thought I would see you on the way.’ He said casually, as if he had taken a detour from Small Heath to Sparkhill. 

Her grip on the handlebar tightened and she lowered her brows in suspicion. ‘How did you know I live here?’ 

‘I have my men in places.’ He said with a finality in his voice. When she kept looking at him with open-mouthed surprise, he walked forward to touch her face and asked, ‘Won’t you invite me in, Y/N?’

In reply, she moved away from his touch and carried her bicycle inside, with no help from him of course. She took her time taking out the books from the carrier, trying to settle her rapid heartbeat. She was surprised, no, shocked to find Thomas Shelby at her house. She had forgotten about him in the past year. 

Lie. 

She had tried to forget about him, burying herself in books and lectures and libraries. It had worked, or so she had thought, because as she looked at his bespectacled form, wearing a hat instead of flat cap and looking almost like her professors, she wondered if she was having another one of her dreams. 

Even more surprising was that he remembered her. There had to be a profound reason behind his visit. He wouldn’t travel a hundred miles for sex, would he? But she didn’t know anything about him, did she? Except that he had sent his family to jail and gotten himself an OBE seven months ago. She wondered if she should hate him on behalf of Linda, who had been seven months pregnant when Arthur was arrested but found it difficult to bring up the hate. And she swore she heard Linda hiss _Traitor_ in her ear. 

‘You can keep your hat here.’ She gestured at the small table when they were inside her ‘home’. 

‘Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be…with you in a moment.’ She said awkwardly and went inside her bedroom, leaving him to peruse her house. 

Tommy looked around the small place, cluttered with newspaper clippings and stacks of mouldering paper. The musty yellow wall was lacking any photoframes and paintings, adding to the general dismal ambience. His gaze stopped on a makeshift wooden shelf which held hordes of books, ranging from Austen to Eliot to Freud. He had picked up a tattered volume of _Silas Marner_ when she came back, still in that damned dress but her unruly hair combed into soft waves. 

‘What did you study?’ He asked, keeping the book back in its place. 

She looked stumped for a moment then composed herself to reply, ‘Modern history. But I like reading, so…’ She gave an apologetic shrug in the direction of the clutter. ‘Please sit. I’ll make some tea.’ She said politely, pointing in the direction of the sofa and walked to the kitchen counter. 

Just as she had expected, he followed her in and said, ‘Your three years at the university are over.’

‘I like living here. Why are _you_ here?’ She asked accusingly, finally giving up all pretense of polite conversation. 

He leaned against the counter and said, ‘My family was arrested on this day. I thought I could use some company on this occasion.’ He finished with a shrug, as if he was telling her about his latest business deal. 

She set the cups with unnecessary force and asked sharply, hating the sudden break in her voice, ‘Why me?’

He took a step in her direction and took her hand in his. ‘Because you’re fucking with my head.’ He said impassively, rubbing circles on the back of her hand. 

She scoffed and pulled her hand away. ‘Or you want to fuck me. Considering I refused _the_ Thomas Shelby.’

The corner of his mouth turned up. ‘For a young girl, you know your way around words.’

She ignored his insult and said calmly, ‘Sex won’t end your grief. It will just alleviate it for a while and then you’ll go back to hating yourself for it.’

‘Who the fuck do you think are you?’ He asked mildly, adding more dread to his scornful words. 

She sighed heavily and began with her profession, ‘I didn’t ask you to come here. Over the last year, I made no attempt to reach you because I knew it’ll be futile. I made peace with my feelings but I won’t let you belittle what I feel. For you.’ She added, waiting for hot shame to cascade down as she looked at the kettle in front of her. 

He let out a tired sigh. ‘What do you feel, Y/N? Love? After three days?’ He asked, his voice inching towards incredulity. 

‘Have you heard about shooting stars?’ She asked quietly. 

His disbelief was soon replaced by bemusement at her strange question. 

She looked up at him and said, ‘They are very rare. Just like you are.’

‘Y/N…’ He began but she interrupted him. 

‘They say that God causes the stars to fall and when you wish on them, your wish is fulfilled.’ She said earnestly and walked closer him. Then, taking his hand in hers, she continued softly, ‘What we have may not last forever, but it will be worthwhile. At least for me.’ She added with a rueful smile. 

He pulled out his hand from her grasp and turned away, afraid of his own actions if he looked at her for another second. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’ He echoed his own words, only this time they held a regretful note.

She walked in front of him, forcing him to look at her. ‘I don’t want to know.’ She said firmly. 

He touched her face and murmured, ‘You won’t be able survive one day’

She put her hand on his and replied, ‘Maybe I’m tired of surviving. Maybe I just want to fall and rise again from the rubble.’

He gave a short laugh and ran his thumb across her lips as he said mockingly, ‘Jumping in rivers doesn’t count as falling, sweetheart.’

Her eyes sparked with anger and frustration and she snapped at him, ‘What do you know about me?’

He ran his hands in her hair, reminded of the night at the canal several months ago. That night, he had wanted to kiss her but had held back. It wouldn’t have been fair to her, even though she was begging to be kissed. But today, he didn’t feel the shackles around him. It should’ve concerned him but he was too spellbound by her to notice.

He gently pulled her hair, making her arch her neck. Then, placing a chaste kiss on her neck, he said, ‘Enough to tell you’re making a mistake.’

Too late for that, she lamented in her head as his lips inched upwards. Moaning a little when he kissed her jaw, she breathed, ‘I know you want it as much as I do.’

Tommy recovered quickly from her marked consciousness of everything. Smirking, he asked, their faces inches apart. ‘And why would I want you, Y/N?’

She leaned closer so she could whisper his ear, ‘Because you are here.’ then before he react, she nibbled on his earlobe. 

He groaned and she moved to kiss his cheek, but he pulled her to claim her lips with unfamiliar urgency. Her surprised gasp was lost in the fierce kiss and she knotted her fists in his shirt, urging him to move closer. And he did just that. 

Putting his arms around her waist, he lifted her up and gently pushed her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him to close the remaining distance, her arms already circling his neck. She felt him through the soft cotton of her dress and was amazed at her ability to make him respond in such a way. Emboldened, she moved against him slowly and was rewarded with his low groan against her lips.

His tongue urged her to part her lips and she let him in warily, novel to a kiss of such intensity. His mouth was hot on hers, her heart was thudding painfully against her ribs and her lungs were ravenous for air. But she didn’t want to end the kiss. For ever. 

But it came to a humiliating stop when his hand inched closer to her knickers and she let out an shamelessly loud moan, then bit his lip in reflex. Hard. 

He pulled away suddenly, out of breath and bloody, and she shut her eyes in apology. Resting his head against hers, he muttered, ‘Where did you learn that, eh?’

She smiled, biting her lip this time. He set her down but didn’t let go of her, probably because he was aware how weak her knees were. 

She was still trying to bring her breathing back to normal when he said in a quiet voice, ‘I am not making any promises.’

She felt a small yet sharp jab in her stomach but said sincerely, ‘I don’t want you to. I don’t believe in forever.’

He moved his hands to place them on the wall, caging her in between. ‘Don’t expect any declarations of love from me either.’ He said lightly, trying to soften the blow by giving her the smile she treasured so much. 

Y/N had expected that but she had to ask a question of her own before she jumped off the cliff. Because she knew she wouldn’t be the same after Tommy. 

She braved herself to look into his eyes and asked, ‘Can I expect something other than your bed? Or your desk?’ She added disparagingly.

‘Everything except one thing.’ He murmured as he rested his chin on her head, detesting his inability to feel anything for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!! Please share your thoughts on this one! :)))


	3. Ruined Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N had helped Tommy, but will she let Tommy help her too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the reader pronoun from she to you in this one. Happy reading!!

## November 1925

You were lying next to Tommy in the London apartment he had recently bought, your breathing still ragged after the intense session of lovemaking. You would never tell him, but his prowess in bed had surprised you. He was only thirty five, but he wasn’t young either. He wasn’t supposed to make you feel that way…

‘What do you want for Christmas?’ His question put an end to your musings. 

‘You.’ You muttered in mild disparagement, tracing the tattoo on his chest with your painted finger.

He gave a dismissive chuckle, as if you had asked for a piece of him instead of some time. ‘What else?’

‘The tomb of Tutankhamun.’ You said incorrigibly, well aware of his aversion towards your subject. It wasn’t like he didn’t read himself, but archaeology and excavations were too impractical for someone like Tommy Shelby. 

He had once asked, irritated by your ramblings about Cleopatra, _What is the purpose of digging up the past?_ And you had laughed for at least ten minutes. 

‘I don’t even want to know who that is.’ He exhaled and pulled out two cigarettes from the packet. 

You declined the proffered cigarette and continued with your beseeching, ‘Tommy, can’t you stay for another day?’

He touched your face tenderly and said, ‘I’ll be back in a fortnight.’

You didn’t answer, doing the math in your head. He looked at you with lowered brows, silently questioning you as smoke wafted around the both of you.

You sighed, ‘I am leaving for Crete next week. I won’t be back for a month.’

‘Why?’ He asked in half-anger, half-irritation.

You gave him a wide smile and declared proudly, ‘To study the ruins of Minoan Civilisation.’

He shook his head a little, a condescending smirk forming on his lips. 

‘What?’ 

He took a deep puff and shrugged, ‘You didn’t tell me about it.’

‘You didn’t ask.’ You pointed out as you reached for your slip and put it on hurriedly.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation, and you stopped him before he could say “You’re acting like a kid, Y/N.”

‘You think what I do is worthless, don’t you?’ You asked, crossing your arms across your chest.

‘I don’t. I just think you could be doing better things.’ He opined.

You gritted your teeth, annoyed that his older age and experience gave him a right to criticise your supposedly ‘naïve’ life choices. 

‘Like you do?’ You blurted, immediately regretting it as his face shadowed.

‘Yeah, like I do. Because it pays the bills.’ The gibe in his words was clear, because your fellowship hadn’t been so sure as you had believed it to be. 

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ You muttered as you moved closer towards him and intertwined your fingers in his.

He looked down at your joined hands and asked, ‘When do you leave?’

But you weren’t interested in his questions anymore. Climbing on top of him, you pulled out the cigarette between his lips and whispered, ‘I don’t want to talk anymore,’ before placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

***

You woke up to an empty bed the next morning, just as you had expected. Groaning against the sunlight shining in your eyes, you got up reluctantly to pull the curtains, only to freeze at the sound of his voice.

‘Pack your bags, Y/N.’

‘Why are you still here?’ You asked as you rubbed the sleep and shock from your eyes.

‘You’re coming with me. Hurry up.’

You clutched the bedsheet around you tighter and asked, ‘What are you talking about?’ 

‘I need you to come with me to New York.’

You shook your head in bafflement, ‘I cannot, you know that.’ 

‘You have to.’ He said, the finality in his voice evident. 

Your lips twisted in a bitter smile and you sat down on the bed. ‘You’re laying your claim on me?’

He scoffed. ‘I don’t need to.’

‘You’re just like the others.’ You muttered, almost shaken by the revelation.

‘Thought I was rare. Like a fucking star.’ He mocked. 

‘Guess I was wrong.’ You said, almost inaudibly.

‘The train leaves at eight. There’s still time, get ready.’ He ordered but you were interested in the pattern on the bedsheet wrapped around you. 

Taking a deep breath, you began with your personal secret, ‘I left my home when I was seventeen, because I wanted to study. My family stopped talking to me for that, for fucking studying. Mum writes sometimes to check if I am alive, but that’s it. My brothers don’t talk to me and I haven’t heard from my father in four years. Before I left, all he said was I would fall for some man, like every woman did.’ 

You cleared your throat and continued, ‘If I don’t go to Crete, I’ll prove him right.’

He shook his head slowly and carefully laid out his words, ‘I am not asking you to prove him right.’ 

‘But you’re not giving me an option either. You are controlling me, just like everybody else.’ 

He looked like he wanted to erase the entire conversation from history. But since it wasn’t possible, he settled with a gentle, ‘Go back to bed. We’ll talk later.’

You gave him a weak smile. ‘Let’s end this, Tommy. We both know it wasn’t going to last forever.’

‘We’ll talk later.’ He repeated, this time with more force. 

But you shook your head and said softly, ‘If there is no future for us, why go through all the trouble.’

He rubbed the space between his eyes and exhaled. ‘All right.’ 

In less than five minutes, he was gone. 

As you watched him leave, you felt something crack deep inside your chest. But you didn’t ease the pain in your heart by liberating the dam of emotions. Crying would confirm that you had fallen, and you didn’t like falling. And you had no reason to cry, you were going to fulfil your dream. Mooning after a man never did anyone good, and a man like Tommy Shelby would never let you dream. 

## 1926 (Sometime after Tommy’s vacation) 

**AMESBURY**

Your hands traced the pattern of the rocks of the Stonehenge, as if they were memorising it. You had been working on the excavation and restoration of the historic monument in Amesbury for the past few months and were presently on a break from the digging. The place was good, and you had learnt a lot in a short while. You were content, but you still wanted more. More countries, more excavations, more everything. Everything which would make you forget the five months you had spent with Tommy Shelby. The first time you left him, you had pined for him. But this time, it was almost like you had had your heart broken. 

Feeling restless, you reached for the chisel in your pocket and were about to make a small mark on the stone when you heard a voice. 

‘You once asked me what made me happy.’

The chisel came to a standstill in your hands but you didn’t turn around, even though your heart was thudding frantically and you were itching to see him again. 

He continued, as if your lack of reaction didn’t matter, ‘I lied, because I didn’t know. I still don’t, but I know what is missing.’

‘What?’ You asked finally from over your shoulder. You didn’t want to face him, because he reminded you of your mistakes, of your weaknesses, of your inability to trust anyone. 

‘A mad woman who made me jump in the cut.’ 

The chisel fell from your hands like leaves fell from trees; naturally, slowly. And for the first time in years, you felt warm tears roll down your cheeks. But this time, you didn’t stop them, liberating the sadness you had bottled up for so many years. You were certain the other three workmen were looking at you, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. 

You inhaled sharply before you turned to look at him. He was standing a few feet away, his immaculate clothing and expensive car earning confused yet intrigued glances from your colleagues. Suddenly, you were conscious of your stained man’s shirt and ill-fitting breeches. 

‘You came all the way from Birmingham?’ You asked redundantly to calm your nerves. _Of course he did, Y/N._

But he only nodded, never taking his eyes off of you. ‘Yeah.’ 

‘I have to be here for the next month. Then I leave for Palestine.’ You told him firmly, waiting for him to argue. All the while wondering why you were telling him all that. He might be passing, just like he was last year. 

‘I’ll stay till then.’

‘I work for twelve hours every day.’ 

He had the gall to smirk. ‘I’ll take the remaining twelve.’

You clenched your jaw at his irksome arrogance. ‘What if I don’t want you to?’

‘I’ll go back to Birmingham.’ He replied in the same impassive tone but something changed in him, like the embers of fire did after a heavy downpour.

Suddenly feeling angry at him, or yourself, you asked cuttingly, ‘What if I want to come with you?’

‘Do you?’ He asked, failing miserably in his attempt at hiding his hope. 

You nodded rigidly and strode towards him, away from the rubble and the inquisitive eyes, in the space Tommy Shelby owned. 

He touched your face gingerly and asked in mild surprise, ‘Are you crying?’

‘I never cry. There’s some dust in my eyes.’ You denied in vehemence but didn’t bother to remove the evidence of your rejuvenation. 

‘What about Palestine?’ He asked. 

You sniffled and looked at his plain white collar. ‘I don’t want it if I don’t have you. You ruined everything, Tommy Shelby.’ You accused. 

He didn’t reply, and you leaned closer, resting your cheek against the steady thud of his heart and murmured, ‘But I like ruined things.’

‘What will you do now?’

Another wave of tears rolled down at his solicitude, staining his light grey waistcoat a darker grey. You sniffled again and admitted, ‘I’ll think about it later. First, tell me what you will do?’

You moved back to look at him and he wiped the tears with his calloused thumbs. 

‘I’m planning to become an MP.’

His declaration hit like a bullet on your newly unfurling wings. 

‘That’s it?’ You asked sadly. 

He laughed shortly, then pulling you closer in a hug, murmured, ‘Then, I’ll marry you.’

You looked up at him with narrowed eyes. ‘I didn’t say yes.’

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. ‘Because I haven’t asked yet.’

‘But why?’ You asked in bemusement, your brows furrowed. 

‘I want you to come back from Palestine.’ He said earnestly and you stood on your toes to place a chaste but warm kiss on his lips. He responded fervently but stopped at the realisation that you both weren’t alone. He pulled back reluctantly but didn’t let go of you. 

Still caught in his embrace, you braved yourself to ask the most important question. _‘_ Can I expect love?’ 

‘Everything, Y/N.’ He replied, the sincerity in his words unmistakable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!


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